The Body Electric
by EmeraldSkyGoddess
Summary: Why does our favorite Seru-sama act the way he does? Ruthless, cruel, cold, among many other things. Here's a little insight for those curious few...


I don't own DBZ

I don't own Rush or their song 'The Body Electric'

Please read and review.

Enjoy.

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He flew out into the dark desert, the dark streaks under his eyes preventing the light of the golden sun above to impact his eyesight. Though it was unnecessary for him to breathe, he found himself panting and he growled at the perspiration dripping down his violet cheeks. His programming should have prevented this; he shouldn't have had to deal with them.

The voices.

_One humanoid escapee_

_One Android on the run_

_Seeking freedom beneath the lonely desert sun_

The screams of those he had taken life from, their endless pleading to let them free, to leave the darkness he brought them into. They began shortly after he announced his tournament. It was never-ending. He couldn't allow such nonsense to continue. He had to remain perfect. Perfection of body and perfection of mind. He would not be imperfect once more.

_Trying to change his program_

_Trying to change the mode_

_Crack the code_

_Inner gears conflicting in to data-overload _

He fell then, they screamed in unison as if trying to veer him away from that thought. They did not want to be silenced. They will be heard. He hit the hot sand then, skidding through the rough yet yielding earth. At last he stopped, still panting quite heavily.

**Why can't I be rid of them!**

_1001001_

_S.O.S_

_1001001_

_In distress_

_100100-_

He felt the chip that was implanted in the base of his skull give out a small signal. He growled in frustration, pounding the sand with his fist as they grew louder and louder. Each screamed their story for him to hear, to have him take pity on them, to spare them. He could see their faces pass through his mind. He screamed.

_Memory banks unloading_

_Bytes breaking to bits_

His eyes grew dull as he lost sight of where he was. He couldn't decipher what was fact and what was a memory of a victim who fought to flee from him. He stood himself up, glancing about, seeing nothing. He knew he could quiet them on his own; he wouldn't need the help of the damaged and imperfect computers that remain at the site of his creation. He could hear the emotionless voice then, speaking for no one to listen.

_Unit twenty-one is in trouble _

_And it's scared out of its wits_

_Guidance systems breakdown_

The doctor, if he was still in existence, would not be pleased. He did not like to be proven wrong. And he would not have one of his creations do so. He then thought of his voice, cold and angry piercing through the voices. He snapped then, his ki rising and blowing the sand about.

**No! I do not need his aid! I am perfect!**

_A struggle to exist _

_To resist_

He screamed aloud, echoing through the empty land. It was fading from him, the power he savored pulling away from him.

_A pulse of dying power in the clenching plastic fist_

The doctor's voice growling over the others, commanding he not resist further, that he obey his commands. The ki was gone from him and he collapsed then, the voice of his creator slashing through any other thought. His held fell forward to his chest, eyes lacking any shine. The voices were gone. As was his individual mind. A wisp remained however, a fleeting thought of how the chip on his neck would be glowing a soft, angry red now. His master did love that color.

The sun was now setting, the sky above turning a scarlet shade. Slowly the doctor began replacing the memories of his perfection, his tournament and his only purpose in existence. He was to fight Son Goku. He was to kill him, and to punish the earth for accepting the Saiya-jin and shunning one of a greater purpose, of a greater mind.

**They all will pay. They will suffer. I am commanded to be the perfect weapon. Master is never wrong.**

**I am the perfect killer.**

_It replays each of the days_

_A hundred years of routine _

_He bows his head and prays to the father of all machines _

**All machines.**

His eyes gleamed once more, a mask of a serious and deadly being. He once again rose to his feet, eyes turning to the sky.

**Red.**

His eyes left the skies, and he turned in the direction of his tournament ring. Only nine days remained. He will keep the voices at bay; he will keep his master happy. He will win all battles.

_1001001_

_S.O.S_

_1001001_

_In distress_

_100100-_

Cell walked off into the darkness, Gero's chip smothering the last of his own thoughts before the color faded.


End file.
